We adopted Bobby, a quiet five-year-old boy, hoping love and stability would help him heal. For months, he never spoke a word. But on his sixth birthday, everything changed. He looked up from his dinosaur-themed cake and whispered, “My parents are alive.”
In that moment, our world shifted—and so began a journey we never expected.
I always thought motherhood would come naturally. I imagined lullabies, bedtime stories, and giggles echoing through the house. But life had other plans.
My husband Jacob and I tried for years to start a family. We faced heartbreak after heartbreak, including failed treatments and countless doctor’s visits. Finally, one specialist gently said, “There’s nothing more we can do. Adoption might be your best path forward.”
I broke down that evening. The dream I had held for so long felt impossible. I remember crying on the sofa, questioning everything. Jacob sat beside me and said something that stuck with me forever: “Love makes a parent, not biology.”
That was the turning point.
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